


lateness

by psychedelicbubblegum



Series: MASHverse [13]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Cute Kids, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Parent!Stucky, Parenthood, Sass, Teasing, Thunderbolts (team), bring your kid to SHIELD, even captain america can be late, i continue to deny infinity war, i will give steve & bucky the happiness canon deprives them of, my boi needs happiness, new team on the horizon, project thunderbolt is a go-go!, this is legit just bucky with his daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 21:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18018563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicbubblegum/pseuds/psychedelicbubblegum
Summary: To children, the concept of time always proves to be complicated. This time, Bucky just finds the whole thing amusing.





	lateness

She was getting impatient – there was no doubt about it.

 

Granted, he should’ve seen this coming: little girls were notoriously impatient; nineteen years under the same roof as Becca should’ve taught him this. The hysterical wails that’d batter Bucky’s eardrums ever Friday night over the fact she’d misplaced her cranberry lipstick ( _again_ ) and that her look would be ‘completely ruined’ without it was a memory he’d found  _way too easy_  to recall, even back in the early, blurred days, where differing memories from fantasies and nightmares had been an uphill slog. The agitated pout, increasing tightness of a usually gentle grip, even the restless flexing of tender digits against the sensor pads packed under gleaming metal, complained loudly about a  _certain someone’s_  lack of punctuality; even if cherry lips were pursed together in a defiant line drawn of silent annoyance.

 

 _Someone_  was gonna get bollocked when he showed up, and frankly Bucky was thankin’ every spiritual deity that could possibly be up there for that someone not bein’ him. Peggy was goddamn _terrifying_  whenever she was in a bad mood.

 

Like her namesake, she took timekeeping  _very_  seriously ( _deadly_  serious would be more appropriate in a couple years’ time), and lateness had clearly been cementing itself as a personal offense to her over the past six months.  _Really_  didn’t help that she’d picked up Bucky’s approach to patience: namely it wasn’t necessary. The practice all seemed fine and dandy when it wasn’t being reflected back at you. 

 

They’d only been sitting in the waiting room- well technically speaking it was the ‘visitor’s room’ (boy Fury sure did  _love_ enforcing SHIELD’s dumbass pointless rules about ‘using the correct terminology in the workplace’), which still functioned as a bit of a mindfuck for Bucky and the rest of the Avengers (9/10 ‘visitor’ was a polite term of ‘prisoner’ where SHIELD was concerned) – for about six and a half minutes, that was if the clock hadn’t been busted up by Wade getting himself launched at it after attempting to ‘kick-start his flying powers’ yet again , but it was six and a half minutes later than when Steve had promised to show his ass up so he could take them (well more specifically Peggy) to the park – specifically after he was done clearing up some paperwork fresh from Arequipa (turned out eco terrorist groups releasing mutated baboons was a more common occurrence than you could ever imagine). Paperwork Steve had assured Peggy wouldn’t take too long (‘ _no more than two hours, sweetie_ ’ – only Steve Rogers of all people could make two hours sound like nothing at all to a five year old with the firm belief ‘hour’ was secret code for ‘eternity’, with his apologetic smile and benign gaze), thus promising her he wouldn’t be late:  _famous last words_. Especially when it came to Peggy.

 

Her small form – an amalgamated loveliness of untamed chestnut curls fixed into a loosened ponytail bound with ribbon, vibrant rosy cheeks, fair complexion bound to tan slightly in the summer months, nimble figure and eyes (capable of shimmering in that heady sincerity Steve’d been graced with) a blend of mist and amber, resulting in a bewitching hazel dashed with gold and grey, outlined with dark lashes; her current appearance (that honest prettiness) promised true captivating beauty when she was older (beauty Bucky was  _way more_ than willing to terrorise the teenage male demographic over) – was squirming restlessly from where she’d climbed onto his lap, wrestling half-heartedly against his grounding embrace, as her short legs kicked outwards, boredom and frustration mingling in that perturbed scowl.

 

His mismatched arms squeezed her carefully, pressing against the blue and white polka dot fabric of her vintage inspired dress (she thoroughly enjoyed living up to her namesake by all accounts), and caused her to come out of her headspace, turning whiplash quick to turn her unenthused pout upon him, but cooled upon their eyes meeting and freckled arms wound hurriedly around broad sides as a flushed cheek pressed itself against the moss coloured fabric of a worn shirt.

 

“He isn’t doing too much writing is he? He hasn’t forgotten about it, has he Daddy?” Peggy was a brave kid, a strong kid, way more than capable of dealing with the pressures of paparazzi and social scrutiny and unyielding prejudices than Bucky could’ve ever dreamed of handling at her age, but family (in a way reflective of both Steve and Bucky’s own natures) was already her blatant biggest weakness. She often complained about both of them overworking or getting themselves hurt on a mission – it’d taken one bad decision when facing Weapon X ops, with their special training and perfect aims, resulting in a peppering of bullets in his flesh arm that’d caused his baby’s ashen face to be streaked with distraught tears and cling to him desperately in Bruce’s med bay that’d ceased Bucky’s blind impulsiveness in the face of danger – and lateness not only clearly irritated Peggy but also worried her in an unvoiced anxiety; Steve was a nightmare where working himself into a coma was possible, and kids were good with instinct, so there was no doubt in Bucky’s mind that Peggy’d picked up on it from the first time she’d been held by him in the hospital.

 

“Forget about takin’ you out, petal?” The metal hand gently petted the flyaways of her ponytail, forearms tightly hugging Peggy close. “No chance! Yer the apple of his eye! His number one gal,  _my_  number one gal. Who’d pass up takin’ you out for some boring papers?”

 

Sunshine ignited within those hazel eyes then as she giggle, pulling back from pressing her face into his shirt so she could stand, feet firmly planted in between his kneecaps so her own smile could be matched by Bucky’s own, soft hands steadying her small figure by leaning on broad shoulders. “You’re Pops’ favourite person  _too_  Daddy! And mine as well!” She enjoyed reminding him of how much he meant to her and Steve – Bucky would bet cash it was one of her favourite pastimes – and even with her silent demand for Steve to appear mixed in with her worries of his overworking, it was always a sure way to improve her mood.

 

“Oh yeah?” The pads of his metallic thumb fondly stroked wisps of hair out of sparkling eyes and the warmth humming inside his chest (a chest that’d spent so many years chilled and barren) crackled softly as his grin broadened further. “Earlier I was pretty sure Agent Barton was one of your favourite people! You sure drew him a lot of pictures!”

 

It was a common occurrence for Peggy to sit in on Thunderbolts weekly ‘group catch-up’ sessions whenever Bucky filling in for Luke Cage (new-born daughters and work with the Defenders were harder to juggle than he and Jess had originally perceived), accompanied by her large collection of colouring pens, drawing pads and infectious giggle; Fury had begrudgingly allowed it, under the condition she stayed by Bucky’s side at all times and wasn’t allowed to wander around unaccompanied (not exactly a hard stretch of the imagination – not only did Peggy take great pride in telling everyone she encountered her daddy was the Winter Solider; she went out of her way to stick to him like glue).

 

Project Thunderbolt had been the government’s compromise for allowing active superheroes their independence again (namely after the whole Norman Osborn ‘Dark Avengers’ scandal), and frankly it wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass considering what kinds of shit the Avengers had spent theorising would be dished out for the exchange of their privacy again. In simple terms, it was that it would be the duty of active superheroes to rehabilitate and re-educate a handpicked variety of ‘supervillains’ (sometimes Bucky found that term was loose considering some of the jokes they’d had show up on the radar), under the hopes of adding to the ranks of the earths’ protectors. And, having been one of the most effective assassins of the 20th and 21st centuries who’d successfully managed to break free of systematic brainwashing and go onto save the world a couple dozen times (usually by stopping Captain America doing something too suicidally reckless), Bucky was generally one of SHIELD’s first go-to’s when it came to working with ex-professionals and genetic experiments.

 

The current line-up was by no means one of the worst Bucky’d faced (although watching Loki squirm whenever that metal fist clenched had amused the sadist inside of him); in fact, he’d dare say all of them had the makings of damn fine superheroes in them, even if they were buried under layers of poor decisions, traumatic upbringings, drug addictions and cripplingly low esteems. Not that none of this could be worked past as this lot actually seemed to  _want_  to help defend the world and change for the better.

 

Josten needed a serious lesson in how to grow a backbone and stand up to ‘colourful’ personalities, but Bucky couldn’t blame the guy for being more than a little cautious when Doctor Strange’s assistant (who he may or may not have adopted in some capacity) was his girlfriend – a fact said Doctor Strange was oblivious (‘safely oblivious’ Erik had called it) about.  The guy was an unfortunate mixture of guilt, low self-esteem and misplaced ambition the likes of Helmut Zemo preyed upon to form themselves good, obedient bodyguards; the lack of official malevolence had always been a huge positive, though. Erik Josten had proven quickly to be one of the Thunderbolts most willing to accept the weight of the activities he’d participated in and (unlike  _some_ people) didn’t show up to every meeting with a checklist of excuses for his actions – most of which tended to be laid upon other people whenever someone else began rattling one off.

 

Golden tended to be a bit of a loudmouth – her old alias of ‘Screaming Mimi’ and her current one of ‘Songbird’ suited to the fact she sure did like the sound of her own voice – but, like Josten, there was a genuine desire to stick up for the underdog hidden somewhere in there; no doubt a product of a lonely childhood and unconventional adolescence. Her anti-establishment attitude had proved handy on more than one occasion when it came to defending the Thunderbolt’s right to some privacy, and her wrestling background meant not only was she a highly competent fighter, but she and Dee tended to get along pretty well for two sides of the same coin. Not to mention Melissa’s pink and white hair was something Peggy’d instantly fallen in love with, and for more meetings than not, she’d happily sit there whilst letting Bucky’s elder daughter perch on her knee and braid it so it resembled the swirl of a candy cane.

 

Sofen’s attitude often swung from being unable to stop with the inflammatory remarks to genuine bouts of helpfulness. There was an unpredictability to Karla’s temperament that made her an asset on the battlefield and a nuisance in relations. Her psychological comprehension was second to none, but her irritating level of awareness of this intelligence and pleasure when it came to pushing people’s buttons caused her presence to be something Bucky treated as both a blessing and a curse. Still, the woman genuinely understood the scope of what she’d been involved in, and had little interest in returning to the villainous lifestyle, even if – most of the time – this was more motivated by a desire to maintain a good public image. Not to mention she simmered down Melissa’s insistent communist propaganda talk and just so happened to be one of the few Thunderbolt’s capable of helping Peggy to  _calm down_ during meetings, instead of getting her worked up into a higher state of hyperactivity, if it was partially because his little girl was enamoured with Karla’s golden locks of Rapunzel esque hair.

 

Loki – as expected – had initially been about as useful as a chocolate teapot. His outbursts ranged from sulking to indignant protests about the most ridiculous things (which was a lot next to Mimi’s communist manifesto), but as time had gone by, he’d settled somewhat, and become less likely to interrupt a briefing with one of his emotional fits. Whilst it was safe to say Bucky still wasn’t going to place his trust in the god of mischief and lies anytime soon, his attitude adjustments had been a pleasant surprise, something everyone on the team agreed with (for once). Part of the Winter Soldier couldn’t help but suspect Loki’s recent enthusiasm was because he’d been spending more and more time with Thor, but anyone could tell you that actually bringing up that reality would ensue another childish tantrum, so for now he was trying to leave the piss taking to a minimum. Even if it was unbelievably tempting thanks to Loki’s one man war against Heather’s cat.

 

And then, there was Barton. ‘Barton Jr’ as he liked to call Barney when he was in the mood for playful antagonising. Maybe being Clint’s brother had rubbed off on the guy a little below the surface level, as he was by far the most cooperate Thunderbolt when it came to missions. He had a similar sharp sense of humour to his older sibling – albeit a little harsher and darker thanks to his former lifestyle – but the guy was funny, and didn’t give Bucky, or Luke for that matter, needless shit because he wanted to gage a reaction. Sure, his smart remarks were sometimes enough to offset a riot amongst the other members, but for the most part having him there in meetings was way more of a blessing than a curse. At least that’s how it tended to be in Bucky’s newfound world of Avengers, Thunderbolts and seeing a bunch of grown adults who wore spandex and leather squabbling over who was winning the latest round of Uno.

 

Barton’s biggest help to him though, had been his treatment of Peggy ever since she’d been cleared to hang around during the Thunderbolt’s weekly meetings.

 

The guy liked keeping his hands busy – ‘archers touch’ Clint had called it when Bucky’d noticed he did the exact same thing – and pencils tended to be his optional poison. Those pencils had been a massive help in the regard he’d loan them off to Peggy, giving her something to do instead of having her sit around and listen to adults discussing the latest assignment they’d had dished out to them by the higher ups (namely Coulson and Fury). As the meetings had progressed, Barney had begun palming off sweets to the older daughter of Captain America and the Winter Solider as a kind incentive to prevent her from becoming too board with the often ridiculously extravagant briefings, which managed one thing above all, and that was to be phenomenally time wasting.

 

In subsequent thanks for handing her as many Cream Eggs as she could eat in forty five minutes, bringing spare paper for her to draw on and allowing her to use him as a chair instead of the ‘grownup’ ones, as Peggy liked to call them, Barton had amassed a mountain of drawings that day, most of which depicted him in his dark red attire, shooting arrows at bad guys – today giant lizard men appeared to be the choice. Bucky had a suspicion Peter had been over to ask Steve about his history essay, and in the process had provided Peggy the watered down version of events which had comprised his confrontation with the Lizard – his former professor Dr. Kurt Connors. The kid had really proven himself to be one of the best heroes out there, even amidst all the loss and tragedy that seemed to plague his short life like some macabre shadow.

 

“Barney _is_  one of my favourite people!” Peggy interrupted his thought train happily with her delighted grin and arms still wound around his shoulders as she responded to his teasing. “But you and Pops and Becca are my  _absolute favoritist_!” She insisted as her cheeks glowed a healthy pink and she jumped up and down slightly. It was hard for Bucky to not lose any semblance of intimidation at these points of time when she – his firstborn daughter, his little girl, who’d always remain that way even by the time she’d sprouted her own wings and taken a step in a direction towards adolescence – looked at him that way and his heart melted into a gooey, satisfied puddle of happiness. “We’re gonna go get Becca when we’re done at the park right?”

 

It’d been a joint decision that day they’d take the afternoon off to spend some time with Peggy by herself. Of course, their elder daughter had taken to her status with all the enthusiasm and devotion only the kid of the nation’s golden boy and former assassin could’ve, but it felt fair to give Peggy some time just with them once in a while, now that she was attending school, leaving Becca with whichever of them wasn’t working that day.

 

“’Course we are, sunshine,” Bucky reassured her as he kissed the top of her head again, prompting Peggy to snuggle herself into his shoulder, cheek pressed up against the dark fabric. “But I’m sure Becca’s havin’ a wonderful time with Aunt Carol. You seem to whenever you go and stay there! Sometimes I don’t think you wanna leave!”

 

As the Avengers official third-in-command, Carol Danvers – aka Captain Marvel – had proved to not only be one of the biggest assets the team could’ve wished for in the wake of Thanos’ attack, but a fantastic friend, to put things likely, and leave out all the gritty details. Maybe it was her military background or the shoulder length blonde curls she possessed (‘Sleeping Beauty’ curls according to Peggy, in contrast to Karla’s ‘Rapunzel’) or the fact the woman was more than willing to stand up to anyone she saw as patronizingly sexist in the wake of her gender, but she seemed to have inspired something in Peggy that reminded Bucky distinctively of the woman she was named after. Carol commanded a sort of power that led you to feel like she could keep people safe – and the fact she three nephews and hair cut on the shorter side ensured (which prevented incidents of it being yanked on – especially as she tended to tie it back around small children) she was a highly-recommended babysitter.

 

“Daddy!” Peggy admonished – giving him a look uncannily resemblant of Agent Carter – although she was still grinning with mirth and vigour. “You  _know_  I love bein’ with you and Pops more than anythin’ in the world! I just like that Aunt Carol can fly and shoot light from her hands and can smack Mr Stark upside the head when he’s in his special suit and make him actually feel it!” Ah yes. No-one could forget the day Carol had first slapped the back of the metal suits casing and Tony had actually said ‘ow’ for once – namely because no-one had let him live it down for a solid year.

 

“Speaking of your Pops…” Bucky trailed off, raising his eyebrows down at his daughter, whose eyes widened in delight and she spun around from where she’d been standing, dress twirling out beneath her in an elegant flow of navy fabrics.

 

Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, or should that be Captain Poor Timekeeper considering him leaving them waiting, stood in the doorway leading to the waiting room. The suit’s been ditched he figured, for a pair of blue jeans and a plaid shirt (the kinds of clothing that’d become Steve’s second skin when he’d first woke up in this strange new world) made him look almost pedestrian. But when you were someone born so unnaturally beautiful – no matter how much Steve argued against Bucky’s compliments – it was hard to fit in with the crowds, no matter how average two men taking their daughter to the park was in the modern world’s standards.

 

“You’re  _late_!” Peggy declared accusingly, and Steve’s eyes widened, figure cringing slightly when he realised what upcoming lecture he was going to be getting from his elder daughter about keeping up promises about getting places on time.

 

Even with those puppy dog eyes trained on Bucky – asking for some form of reprieve from his little girls’ strictness when it came to not being late to dates they’d set – he could only shrug, somewhat apologetically, and let out a brief sigh before speaking up. “I warned you Rogers. Don’t keep your kids waitin’. Especially one you named after the queen of punctuality.”

 

Whatever revenge Steve planned upon getting later was more than worth it with the glance he was flashed in response to that comment. 

 

* * *

 

Margaret Sara & Rebecca Heidi Rogers-Barnes are both co-owned by [Accidental_Ducky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidental_Ducky/pseuds/Accidental_Ducky)!

**Author's Note:**

> This snippet actually began as a (very late) birthday present for the wonderful Accidental_Ducky; which I've dithered about posting for quite some time. I tend to get really anxious about posting anything shipping related? Namely as I worry things don't seem believable, or that people end up seeming OOC. But this is a oneshot I really loved writing, so I threw all caution to the wind and decided to post it on here. 
> 
> It's also a product of my belief Bucky Barnes deserves nothing but pure, unadulterated happiness; and he and Steve with children is just something I cannot deny works SO well (at least in my hairbrained mind!).


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